And it's far too easy to be her crown of thorns
by brokentoyinlalaland
Summary: it's just a game. just once. nothing to worry about, right?


**_Author's note:_ I've been lurking for years now, and I never thought i'd join. Until now, that is. So i'm putting up all my old fics, mostly house/cam, mostly angsty :)  
So, for me, seasons 4 and 5 never happens, even if I still love the show to bits and still think it's one of the best out there. It's just that i'm hameron all the way, and my shipping self its still revolving around those great first 3 seasons.**

**So, the new team??? It never happened here. **

**Enjoy, and remember that reviews are like candy to a writer's heart.**

_**And it's far too easy to be her crown of thorns.**_

- So, you're doing Chase.

You blurt it out like this, in your office, late one evening. . . Everybody else is already gone for the day. She stayed to take care of your charting, so you thought that it was as good as a moment to bring it out and ask her. You are curious. You know she does not love him; you are pretty sure of it actually. So you wonder why. Could Allison Cameron, caring to the point of sickness, engage in a meaningless sex relationship with her co-worker (who so obviously had a crush on her)? And, if so, why don't take advance of the thing?

She does not raise her head from the papers.  
Merely casts a glance at you.

- Excuse me?

- I'm sorry – You mock her - Are you repeatedly making sweet sweet love with our precious Robert?

Now she raises her head, looking at you.

- I'm not – She says, looking at you.

- So you're just doing him to get off, aren't you?

- Yes – She says, and you perfectly hide your surprise at her sincere admission.

She lowers her head again, and continues to do your charts.

You stay like this for a hour or so. Your iPod earplugs blast Interpol's _Antics_, but you're not as concentrated on the album as usual.

- So - You begin, out of pure curiosity, taking the plugs away - Why Chase?

She stills for a couple of seconds, eyes down on the papers, then looks up.

- Why do you wanna know? - She asks, a little taken aback.

- I'm curious – True, you surely are. You really want to know why out of every other men she could have had [_you_] she picked that blond little prick.

- I guess I didn't have time to go out and get to know anybody else.

- Why not Foreman? – You say, but you already know the answer.

- That's a stupid question, and you know it. I'm like his sister. Well, kind of.

You really don't know why you came up with your next question. Maybe it was because you two rarely shared a talk like this, on personal ground, mostly because you didn't really care about anything other than yourself. But right now, you really want to know.

- Why not me?

And you can tell that she's surprised. Like, really, really surprised. Good, so she won't detect your serious interest in the matter.

- What? – Her eyes leave yours, and she starts looking frantically around the room – Wh…Wh… - she stutters - Why are you asking me this?

- I don't know – True – Guess I just wanted to know.

- I'd better be going now - She says, pushing the charts aside. She gets up, starting to put her things together.

You grin at her.

- You kissed me. – You say, matter of factly, and she abruptly stops whatever she was doing with her things.

- House, stop it.

- Why, we're just talking. I want to know.

- No…no you don't – She says, and goes to take her coat - I'm going home.

- No you're not. You're coming with me.

-What? – It's not surprise. More like shock.

- You heard me - You get up, taking your leather jacket - You're coming with me. Now.

- House, please - You think that there's almost panic in her voice - Just…just let me go home.

- Why should I?- You say, taking a few steps in her direction - You and me, no strings attached. You want it too, and I assure you I'm way better than Chase is.

She takes a step back.

- House, no. I…we can't. We can't do this.

- Come on. Just once. You're telling me you never wondered how it would be? I sure did. Lots of times, actually - Another step forward. She blushes, hard.

- I don't think this is a good idea – Step back. Bump. Trapped between you and the wall.

- Sure it s. We're adults - step forward. Your body is inches from hers. You bend your head, your lips dangerously close to her ear. She shivers. You grin. - It'll be fun. I promise it'll be the best you've ever had. - And without waiting for her answer you take her hand and lead her outside.

***

The ride home on your bike is spent in silence. She doesn't even wrap her arms around your body.

Opening the door, you can tell that she's really uncomfortable. You lead her inside, motioning for her to sit on the couch, and pour you both a scotch on the rocks.

You give her her glass.

- Here - She looks at you. Her eyes big and almost a little scared - Come on Cameron. It's just a game, you know.

You almost regret saying that, for her eyes lose that scared look, replacing it with a hollow one. In a matter of seconds, she's like the shell of herself.

She takes her drink, and swallows it in one swift motion, gets up, and sheds her coat. She could have shed her skin as well, and you're sure she wouldn't have flinched. She looks...you don't know..._switched off_.

She inches forward and takes your glass, putting it on the coffee table, then takes your jacket off, not saying a word. She peels off your blazer and button down too, then works on her shirt, taking it off completely.

You look straight into her eyes as she removes her bra, and you can't detect a single ounce of emotion in them.

You're surprised to find yourself uncomfortable with this. It wasn't meant to be like this. She's never been the one to shut off her emotions. This...thing should be what she wanted all along. Still, you can't understand why it troubles you like this.

Her voice is cold when she speaks.

- So, House. How do want to do it?

You can't speak. That's not her voice anymore. That's not Cameron. It's just the ghost of herself.

She reaches to touch you, and you step back.

- Look - you say, your voice quivering - maybe...maybe you were right...this is not right...we should...- She's close now. Way too much. She puts her hands on your shoulders, and tilts her head up. Her eyes are open as she kisses you, swallowing your _'stop'_.

She's kissing you, and her eyes are cold, and open. This is not at all like your first kiss. You're surprised to feel her tongue on your lips, probing, tasting like scotch.  
Your hands circle her bare waist, and that's too much. You can't think of anything now, because she's there, her skin is there for you to touch.  
You close your eyes and a little grunt escapes your lips as you find her right breast, nipple already erect.

She's tender, and warm; unlike her eyes her body is burning hot. Your right hand entwines in her hair and you're lost.

Inside yourself you know you're killing her. Breaking her into a million little pieces, but as you pinch her nipple she moans and you lose it even more.

She takes off your t-shirt, breaking the kiss for a couple seconds. Her face is flushed, hair a little bit tousled by your hand. And she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

Before she can kiss you again, you drop yourself on the couch, taking her hand and positioning her in front of you, in between your legs.  
You raise your eyes to look at her. She's so small and fragile, and you're breaking her all the more.

You trace the hem of her trousers with ghost fingers, and as she takes a sharp [shaking] intake of breath you look into her eyes. They're closed.

_Great_, you think, _now she's closed off all the way_.

- Cameron – you say, hooking your index finger inside her trousers, gracing her underwear - Look at me.

She's silent, but as she opens her eyes, you can't bear to look at her for more than a second. She's not there anymore. She's gone. Her body is hot in front of you, but she's not.

- Take it off – you tell her. And as she sheds herself of her pants and underwear, you take off your jeans.

She's naked in front of you, vulnerable and silent.

_Beautiful_ escapes your lips and you can't help it. You reach out and your hands encircle her waist. She's still, doesn't move a single muscle. You kiss her belly button, your arms holding her. You raise your head, your stubbled chin resting on her tummy, and looking her in the eyes, you whisper.

- Open your legs.

She complies, her eyes not leaving you once as your fingers grace her between her tights. Your fingertips tickling as they brush against her curls. You find her impossibly wet. And you're insanely relieved that a part of her is enjoying this. You slip inside your index finger, and your breath dies in your throat as you feel her clench around it, her breathing accelerating.

She does not move, but your finger does. You put in your middle one too, bathing it in that wetness. You can tell she's already close, but you don't want to let her come like this. You want to be inside her, the closest to her is possible. You find yourself needing to feel her hotness around you, and you're scared about it.

You take your fingers away, her smell engulfing you, and she whimpers at the loss of them.

You look up at her, and she's looking at you. Her eyes moist, pleading. You don't understand what's really happening here, but you lick your fingertips, and as her breath itches at the sight of your tongue tasting her arousal, you love her taste and crave more.

Your arms circle her waist again, pulling her closer. You nuzzle her curls with your nose, and you're positive that by the time your tongue darts out to lick her clit she's not breathing anymore.

You love her taste, and you want more, but your boxers are tenting way too much, and you can't wait anymore.  
You give her clit another lick, swirling the tip of your tongue around her, then you kiss it gently goodbye, raising your head towards her again. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, you fear that maybe she's not even real, and you'll end up waking up to another wet dream about her.

- Come here – you whisper, letting her waist go, taking your boxers away, and motioning her towards you.

She gently crawls on your lap, and it's all you can do not to come at the simple brush of her wetness on the tip of your cock.  
Her eyes still closed, she doesn't move, bracing herself with her hands on your shoulders.

- Look at me - You say.

And as she opens her eyes, you begin to slip inside her, slowly filling her with yourself. You hiss your appreciation, and she moans in return.

- God - you whisper, your mouth resting on the perfect curve of her neck - God, Cameron...you're...perfect - And you're surprised to feel the emotion cracking your voice.

Her eyes slid shut again, and you feel a single tear roll down her cheek as you begin to move. You move your head and kiss it away, thrusting a little faster.

Your arms push her even more to you, and her hands cling to your back for dear life.  
She's tight, and wet, and maybe you're a little too much for her to take, but it feels perfect. It's blessing and killing all together.  
Your head lowers between her breasts and she lets out a moan as you take her nipple in your mouth, flicking your tongue on the tip. You bite down, and feel her fingernails scraping your back, drawing blood, hurting, and you're glad, for you know you're killing her with each thrust, and you deserve pain, hate, and everything but _this_. 'cause _this_, _this_ is too good for you.

She lowers her head, and your forehead rests against hers. You can feel she's beginning to contract around you, sending shots of pleasure from your groin directly to your brain, in between grazing your chest.

You kiss her gently on the lips.

- Let it go, Cameron.- You tell her, but her brow furrows and she lets out a little grunt.

- House – She pleads, and your name is the first thing she utters since she kissed you earlier on – I…I…I can't. – She whispers.

- Sure you can, - You pant - You're my girl, Cameron, let it go.

You give her another little peck on the lips, and that's it. You feel her contract around you, and she opens her eyes, and you're looking straight through her. She lets herself be swallowed in bliss, and as she shuts her eyes letting out a pleasure-filled version of your name, tears come out and land on your face and lips, and you're there too, spilling it all into her. And it was not supposed to be like this, because you're mourning her loss of innocence, and you're pulling her to you, swallowing her desperation, riding pleasure and pain together.

She's still crying softly as you recover. Your hands are soothing her back, and you feel her shake. Your heart is breaking for what you just did to her. And you want to reach for her, but she's far away, crying her heart out.  
You grace her cheek, and pull her face up.

- Cameron - She does not acknowledge you. She just keeps on shaking.  
- Cameron, look at me - Nothing.  
- Allison, please...you're scaring me...- And it's true, in a million different ways.

She slowly opens her eyes, bright and shiny.

- Stop it – You say, and you can tell she's mortified. She's crying and it wasn't supposed to be like this, but it's not what you meant, and she does not realize it.

- Stop it – you repeat, kissing her tears away – Stop it with Chase, tell him to fuck off. Stop pining this much for me. Stop hurting yourself. Just stop it - You kiss her lips - And...stay...if you want. Not on the couch...I mean....just stay, don't go home. Stay a little while.

And you don't really know where that came from, but now she's clutching at you even more, her tears still there, hot and burning your skin, and she's kissing your cheeks and you rest your head between her breasts and you take a sigh of relief, not really sure for what, but you do.

And you'll work it all out later.

It was not supposed to be like this. But for now it's okay for you to hold each other.


End file.
